


Any Available Excuse

by BaredWolf



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Facial Shaving, First Kiss, First Time, Fix-It, Frottage, Harry Hart Lives, Honeypot, M/M, Masturbation, Mission Fic, Mutual Pining, Pining Eggsy, Pining Harry Hart, Post-Canon, Suit Kink, Tailor Harry Hart, Tailoring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 22:10:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9291638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BaredWolf/pseuds/BaredWolf
Summary: It's really not the gentlemanly thing to do, but Harry will use any available excuse to get his hands on Eggsy. And Eggsy? Well. He's not much better, really.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I mean, if I write a fic, the "Harry Hart Lives" tag should probably go without saying, but still. #notdead

When Harry isn't dead, when he survived a bullet to the head and came back from Kentucky, Eggsy has some figuring out to do. And yeah, so he's a little too distracted by the demands of the Kingsman, what with the vacancies that leave the remaining agents stretched too thin, so he finds himself mostly doing the figuring out on the fly. A hand on Harry's during the quiet moments when he waits by his bed, waits the long hours for him to wake up, the quiet beep of machinery filling his mind and Eggsy ignoring the fact that Merlin is ignoring the fact that he is holding Harry's hand. 

 

And when weeks have passed in a blur and he gets back from a mission that has left him feeling like he's been ridden hard and put up wet, running on fumes like, and Harry is not only conscious but trying to get out of bed as Eggsy enters his room? Eggsy operates on instinct. He rushes over to Harry, his legs taking action without consulting his brain, moving so much less gently than he knows he should,but he can't quite help it. And then he is wrapping Harry in his arms and holding him up when Harry's legs falter with a soft "Oh". Like he isn't quite expecting to suddenly have Eggsy wrapped all around him. Like some kind of octopus or something. Consummate gentleman that Harry is, though, he doesn't miss a beat, hugging Eggsy back. Eggsy isn'tquite sure how long they stay like that, wordlessly holding one another, but Merlin has to clear his throat before either of them notice that he has entered the room. 

 

"T's good to see you up," Eggsy says to Harry, stepping back from the embrace just enough to make sure Harry makes it back to a seated position alright. Harry clears his throat, nodding to Merlin as Eggsy steps aside. Merlin's skilled fingers go to work checking the bandages that still covered Harry's healing scalp. 

 

"I can assure you it is good to be seen," Harry replies after a moment, his eyes meeting Eggsy's. Eggsy thinks he might be able to just stand there all day, just seeing Harry, until his brain finally caught up with him and he realizes how inappropriate - how ungentlemanly - that would be. Eggsy sees Harry's eyes travel up and down his form, and realizes that this is the first time his mentor has seen him in his full Kingsman get-up. He turns slowly for effect, letting Harry take in the expertly tailored suit. Harry meets his eyes again. "It suits you," he quips, and Eggsy can't help the grin that breaks out on his face. 

 

"Yeah, well," Eggsy says, feeling sheepish. He nods, thrusting his chin forward. "Let you get back to healing, yeah?" Harry's lips twitch in an expression that would have been a smile on anyone else. 

 

"That seems prudent," Harry answers, and Eggsy gets the distinct feeling that it isn't what Harry had wanted to say. 

 

"Right," Eggsy says, finally tearing his eyes from Harry's. He pauses halfway out of the room, his grip tight on the handle. "Get better quick, yeah?" Harry nods slightly in response, and Eggsy feels warm all the way down to his toes at the affection in Harry's gaze. He shuts the door behind him before he can do anything else stupid about it. 

 

\---

 

"He was here as often as his schedule allowed," Merlin murmurs, gently cleaning Harry's rapidly healing stitches. 

 

"Well. The prospect of losing ones mentor is seldom taken easily," Harry muses, pleased at the speed with which his words come to him. When he had first woken two days earlier, every syllable had been an effort. Merlin has seemed astounded at the speed with which he is regaining his speech, but to Harry it cannot possibly return quickly enough. "I am fortunate to have such friends," Harry says, referring to Merlin's near-constant presence as well. 

 

Merlin stills, only for a fraction of a second, but long enough for Harry to look up at his friend and try to catch his eye. Merlin remains quiet as he finishes replacing Harry's bandages. 

 

"Yes, well." Merlin says, finally. "I wasn't the one holding your hand." 

 

Harry feels his heart stutter at that, but tells himself that he isn't quite sure what to make of it. Assumptions being what they are, and all. 

 

\---

 

Dying to save the world certainly had a way of putting things in perspective. Or rather, not dying, but nearly so: near enough to sharply feel the regret of things left undone. Of things unexpressed. 

 

But the sanctuary of finality disappeared once one was no longer, in fact, dead. And those incomplete things, such as they were, were prone to suffer inaction in the wake of the reintroduction of consequences. 

 

And so Harry Hart finds himself carefully pinning fabric to his young charge's shoulders, two months after his return to the living. Eggsy holds just as still as he has been instructed to, in order to avoid being stuck with a pin. Harry could have let one of their full time tailors handle this; the gentlemen are more than competent. Possibly even more skilled than himself, in this particular area. But when Eggsy had destroyed his suit on his latest mission, Harry found himself volunteering for the job of fitting him a new one. He tries not to think about the unexpressed reasons he had been so eager to do do. He is still more or less on light duty only, and this breaks up the monotony that could come with being Arthur. He smooths a palm down Eggsy's arm, checking the fit and lie of the fabric, feeling the heat of the skin beneath. Eggsy regards his own reflection steadily in the mirror. He seems unusually reflective. 

 

"Is everything alright?" Harry asks quietly, taking a step back to observe his work. Nearly finished. Eggsy takes a breath, seeming as if he is about to speak, but then closes his mouth and swallows. Harry feels worry knot in his stomach as he adjusts the shoulder seams carefully. 

 

He knows that it has been hard for Eggsy, having him back, as much as he can tell that the young man is pleased that his mentor has survived. But after a few weeks, Eggsy is still slow to warm up to him, almost standoffish, especially in comparison to his initial greeting. Perhaps this time together is exactly what Eggsy needs to open back up to him, Harry thinks. He hopes, fervently. Harry lets his hands still, resting on Eggsy's shoulders as he stands behind him, meeting his eyes in the mirror. He resolutely ignores the scar on his left temple. He feels the young man take a controlled breath, his shoulders rising and falling. 

 

"'S jus' been a lot," Eggsy finally confesses, some of the tension dropping from his shoulders as he speaks. Harry smiles gently at him, giving Eggsy time to continue. "Don' leave me, yeah?"

Eggsy says, and Harry can see what it costs him to hold his gaze as he makes the request. 

 

"I'm right here," Harry replies, squeezing lightly at Eggsy's shoulders. 

 

"Yeah," Eggsy agrees, and Harry almost thinks he imagines the way Eggsy leans into the touch. He can feel his own pulse quickening, tried already by the heady intimacy of the fitting, of being allowed to touch for so long. He keeps his face composed, even as he lets the tip of his left index finger brush against Eggsy's neck as he withdraws his hands. He should know better, he thinks, but that doesn't stop him from watching for a reaction. A faint flush creeps up Eggsy's neck as Harry pretends to busy himself locating chalk. He feels a thrill at the subtle confirmation, even as Eggsy's expression remains determinedly neutral when their eyes meet again. It isn't really enough to be going on, but Harry feels slightly less guilty for seeking this kind of time with Eggsy. Regardless of whether or not his feelings are reciprocated, they both seem to need it. 

 

His hands are deft, not straying from their professional purpose as he helps Eggsy free of thepinned and chalked fabric. 

 

"I think that will do for today," Harry says quietly, fighting hard against the urge to smooth the thin undershirt over Eggsy's shoulders. He has already taken plenty of liberties today: no more. 

 

"Yeah, okay," Eggsy says after a moment. He hasn't moved, almost as if he is waiting for something else. Then, he shrugs back into his own shirt and jacket while Harry straightens his tools. "Thanks, Harry," he says, placing a warm hand on Harry's shoulder, and Harry has to fight to keep the tendrils of warmth that gesture sends through his body from showing on his face. 

 

"It was my pleasure," he replies. He lets Eggsy hold his gaze for another minute, feeling as if things between them are finding a sense of balance once more. Even, he reflects as Eggsy softly palms the door closed behind him, if it has only made his own situation more precarious. 

 

\---

 

Eggsy drinks in the warm affection in Harry's eyes as he let his hand linger on his mentor's shoulder. It is completely unnecessary, but he can't help himself. With Harry Hart, his self control only seems to extend so far. He still feels warm and vaguely dizzy from the long minutes Harry had spent fitting him, his hands on nearly every inch of Eggsy's body in an infuriatingly professional manner. He leaves the shop still half in a daze, letting his feet carry him until his brain decides to come back online, endlessly grateful that he won't be needed at HQ for a few hours at least. He had thought that maybe he just needed to walk, clear his head a bit, but he soon finds himself entering his own house, ears checking and confirming that no one else is there. He feels his pulse speed as he closes the door behind him, the silence of the house greeting him. Suddenly, he can barely shuck his shoes fast enough, fingers fumbling to get them off, and then fumbling to remove his clothing as he staggers into his own bedroom. He has a hand on himself before his back hits the mattress, rubbing himself through the fabric of his trousers as he remembers the touch of Harry's hands through the fabric. Fucking shite, his skin feels like it is on fire, because Harry's _hands_. Sweeping down his legs, fingers at his waistband, the brush of skin on skin at his neck. The last memory, the tantalizing taste of skin against skin after what had seemed like hours of touch muted by fabric, had been so potent that Eggsy had been sure he was about to get hard in his trousers right there and give away this whole game. 

 

And he fucking wishes it could still be simple, that he wasn't bucking his hips up against his hand in a hungry move for more friction and thinking desperately about his mentor's _hands_. But the joy of having Harry back in his life has been so complicated by his stupid fucking admission to himself. Because when Harry was gone, and no, he reminds the little knot of fear that bubbles up in his chest as he fumbles with the opening on his trousers, he isn't gone anymore, Eggsy had felt safe enough to admit to himself what he had been feeling since the moment he laid eyes on Harry Hart outside that police station. And fuck, he thinks, finally getting his pants shoved down his thighs with his trousers, he had been so unprepared to deal with that when Harry was not dead. And, he thinks, as a gasp tears from his throat, he is so incredibly fucked. He strokes at himself slowly, backhanded pulls letting his foreskin play over the head as he traces through the memories of Harry's hands on him, the way he had run the backs of his fingers down the inside of Eggsy's legs as he adjusted the fabric before marking it to be hemmed, the way he had used just enough pressure that he was touching Eggy through the fabric and not just the fabric itself. He fists himself more tightly as heat pools low and intoxicating in his belly, biting back the gasps that fight to escape his throat. 

 

Eggsy stuffs his fist in his mouth as he comes, biting out Harry's name against his knuckles. 

 

He is fairly certain that this is something that gentlemen absolutely do not do. 

 

—

 

"Ya sure you're up for this, old man?" Eggsy ribs Harry quietly as they stride from their car towards the golden light spilling from the windows of the mansion in front of them. A simple enough honeypot, with an interesting twist that has necessitated two agents. Two male agents, ultimately, as the plan for Lancelot to accompany Galahad was scrapped at the last moment, and Arthur was the most obvious replacement given his knowledge of the mission - and its newly redefined parameters. 

 

"A kingsman is always 'up for this', Eggsy," Harry returns, his voice playful. A twinkle in the glance that Eggsy tosses his way makes him feel flushed, suddenly, reconsidering his choice of words. But the flirtation is just the thing to get them into character, such as it is, as they come in sight of the entrance to the party. 

 

At the top of the stairs, a butler stands at attention, extending a gloved hand for the invitation which Arthur withdraws from the breast pocket of his tuxedo. The man nods minutely after examining the invitation, granting them leave to enter the party. Arthur extends his elbow to Galahad, who slips his arm through. Harry covers Eggsy's hand with his own after a moment's consideration: it works within the parameters of the mission. 

 

The mark, a thirty something socialite who fancied herself something of a political influencer as well, had a habit of only going after men who were already somehow attached. It is a power play, Harry understands, to take what would not be freely given. The question on this, as on any honeypot, is how to ensure that the agent in question was the mark's type, so to speak. Certainly conversational skill and seduction techniques gave agents some room to play within that arena, but if one strayed too far from the mark's preferences, well. There was only so much that skill could compensate for. Their research has indicated a preference for men younger than her, hence the selection of Galahad. But only in the last day had intelligence surfaced that indicated that the mark found seducing one half of a homosexual couple completely irresistible. Outdated notions of sexuality and an overestimation of her own prowess, Harry assumes. But just so, he has been brought in. To play boyfriend to young Eggsy. The look on Merlin's face when he announced this to the three of them - Harry, Eggsy, and Roxy - made Harry wonder what kind of sick pleasure his friend is deriving from this little setup. 

 

Eggsy turns to him, body pressed close as they find a place along the edge of the main room to observe. Their mark is standing next to a grand piano, surrounded by a circle of what Harry can tell are various species of clingers-on and social climbers. No wonder she had gone after the defense codes: anyone with a bit more sense and a bit less ego would have been too smart to try to wield such deadly information. 

 

"You sure she'll like this?" Eggsy asks, a finger tugging absently at the perfectly fitted collar of the perfectly fitted shirt beneath his perfectly fitted tuxedo. Not for the first time that night, Harry found he had to will himself not to stare hungrily and the young man draped against his side. He has developed a deep appreciation for the sight of Eggsy in a Kingsman-issue suit. He slides an arm around Eggsy's shoulders as they both accept flutes of champagne from a roving waiter. 

 

"You think she'd rather a 'bit of rough'?" Harry teases. 

 

"Hey, lottsa people do, now," Eggsy counters, beaming up at Harry. 

 

"She will not prefer a 'bit of rough'," Merlin's voice intones. Eggsy continues to smile at Harry, who takes a small sip of his champagne, and they both pretend that they don't have Merlin's voice in their ears. "Confirmed that's her by the piano, Arthur," Merlin continues, responding to Harry's earlier gesture to the glasses. 

 

"Just so," Harry murmurs to Eggsy. After a moment longer, Eggsy lets his eyes drift away from Harry's as he takes a sip of champagne and looks towards the piano. He must have given the same double blink gesture Harry had employed earlier, going by Merlin's confirmation. 

 

Harry lets his thumb rub against the point of Eggsy's shoulder as the two of them take a few more minutes to sip their champagne. Then, as the chamber orchestra changes over to a sweet and slow number, Harry releases his hold on Eggsy (ignoring the influx of cold against his side, resisting the urge to simply spend the rest of the night enjoying Eggsy's solid presence pressing almost lewdly to his side) and relieves both of them of their nearly-empty glasses. He proffers his hand. 

 

"Shall we?" he asks, and Eggsy beams at him again as he takes his hand and lets Harry lead them out into the small area where other couples are dancing. It is late in the evening, and many of the couples seem to be nearly ready to head home together. 

 

"Remember, gentlemen," Merlin says, "you'll probably have to make a bit of a show of it."Harry sighs internally at the irritation and excitement that reminder brings. Their mark is of the "just (barely) bright enough to be dangerous" variety, and notably poor at picking up on subtleties. Harry's hopes that of a bit of PDA and a dance or two sufficiently rousing her interest- thus preventing any of the more lewd attentions he hungered to bestow on Eggsy- are a moot point. He pulls Eggsy's body close to his own, hand flirting dangerously low against Eggsy's back, as they begin to dance. Harry feels a quiet thrill as Eggsy lets him take the lead. 

 

"Don't look at your feet," he chastises gently. "Look at me." The moment his eyes meet Eggsy's, though, he wishes he hadn't issued the command. There is something dark and vulnerable there, and Harry knows his own gaze has to be responding in kind. He lets his hand inch lower, the thumb of his other hand rubbing gently over Eggsy's fingers where their hands are clasped. 

 

"Very good," Merlin said, and Harry hoped fervently that his old friend couldn't quite tell just how little acting her was doing here. Long moments pass, and the vulnerability in Eggsy's eyes turns to something hungrier and Harry pulls Eggsy so close that their bodies are nearly touching. He can feel the heat of Eggsy's body in the scant inches between them, and wonders what he might discover if he closes that gap. Their closeness complicates the footwork a bit, but then again, whatever it takes for the mission. 

 

Harry feels his own pulse speeding, wonders if Merlin is monitoring that too. He breaks eye contact with Eggsy just long enough to bow his head and brush a kiss to the young man's temple. It is perhaps a bit too tender for what they are aiming for, but he does not know if he will get the chance again. And he has learned, in dying, about taking opportunity when it presents itself. He feels Eggsy's fingers tighten minutely on his shoulder, before he is forced to swallow a gasp as Eggsy rests his head against Harry's shoulder, face turned inwards so that Eggsy's nose is brushing against his collar.And they aren't so much dancing, any longer, so much as standing far too close together to really move their feet. Harry can't quite bring himself to mind. He takes a deep breath, letting his own cheek rest against Eggsy's, relishing the the touch of Eggsy's skin against his own. He considers their next obvious step in this show, and is about to draw Eggsy closer, to initiate what he feels desperately hungry for, when Merlin's voice sounds in his ear. 

 

"Arthur, ten o'clock," Merlin murmurs. Moving only his eyes, Harry snaps back into focus as he sees the mark approaching. He lets his hand inch a fraction lower against Eggsy's back as he lowers his eyes again: her eyes had followed the movement, not noticing him watching as she approached. 

 

She clears her throat softly, stopping just next to Harry. He looks up at her, trying not to hate her as Eggsy's head lifts from his shoulder. It is just another mission, just another mark. 

 

"May I cut in?" she asks, her voice low and seductive as Eggsy's eyes met hers. Ignoring Harry completely. Which meant she has taken the bait, he reminds himself, letting the little flare of jealously he feels as he steps away from Eggsy show with a curt nod, and goes to wait at the edge of the dance floor. 

 

Eggsy performs perfectly, he notes, taking just long enough to warm up to her and return her flirtations for her to believe that it is her own charms reeling him in. Harry is just beginning to wonder when she will make her move to seal the deal when someone clears their throat at his left elbow. He glances over his shoulder for a moment, about to turn back and keep his eyes on Eggsy when Merlin's voice sounds in his ear. 

 

"She's making her move, be distracted," Merlin hisses. Harry turns so that his back is to Eggsy, and politely declines the waiter's offer of another drink. When he turns back to the dance floor and Eggsy and the mark are gone, he wishes he had accepted 

 

\---

 

Eggsy flirts his way to one of the bedrooms with the mark before hitting her with a mild tranquilizer dart. He collects her body from the floor, and places her gently on the bed, removing her shoes. Then he collects her handbag, rifling through it until he finally discovers the thumb drive disguised in a lipstick tube. World class spy, this bit. 

 

"All done," he says softly so that Merlin will know. He aches to get back to Harry, his skin still tingling from the feel of Harry's hands on him. His skin itches hungrily for more contact. Maybe their exit plan will require another dance, and he can make a few more deposits in his well-fed Harry spank bank. Unlikely, though, since he is supposed to have been conquested. Or whatever the word is. He will ask Roxy when they get back. 

 

"Very good," Merlin responds, and quickly rattles off directions to a back exit. Extraction. Eggsy tries not to be disappointed: everything has gone off without a hitch. Or, at the least, it must look that way to other people. Internally, Eggsy can feel himself slowly disintegrating. 

 

Eggsy thought he might be able to relax as soon as he and Harry are seated next to each other in the car once more, but he is so distracted by the heat of Harry's thigh, scant inches from his own, and the smell of his cologne mixed with a scent Eggsy can now definitely say is Harry, that he can't relax at all. 

 

Merlin congratulates both of them on their skilled acting after debriefing them, but Eggsy can't help thinking how the bits with Harry hadn't been acting at all.

 

\---

 

Had he willfully forgotten how small the tables were at this restaurant, Harry asks himself. He isn't sure he can give an honest answer to that, though, not an answer that is both honest and honorable. Although, come to think of it, fuck honor, he has other priorities. The restaurant is a sweet little gem, with exorbitant price tags: just the kind of place a kingsman must know how to feel at home. A training exercise, teaching his young charge to be comfortable in refined environments. His eyes flick up from the brief menu in his hand to see Eggsy glancing around the place, again. 

 

Harry shifts his knee slightly, under the table where proximity forces it to rest against Eggsy's. No, he doesn't think he had forgotten about the tiny tables. Not that Harry minds, but this is pushing things with Eggsy, however subtly. He must mind his companion's comfort. 

 

"Is everything alright?" He asks, letting his eyes drop back to the menu as Eggsy looks at him. 

 

"How you think they're gonna fit two plates on here?" Eggsy asks, indicating the table that is quite occupied by a pair of drinks and silverware. No room even for a candle or flower. 

 

"They manage," Harry replies, feeling a small smile sneak onto his lips. Eggsy shifts in his chair and Harry tries to ignore the bolt that shoots from where Eggsy's leg rubs against his inseam straight to the base of his spine. The feeling pools there, dark and dirty, as Harry wills himself to focus on selecting something to eat. To ignore the faint flush in his companion's cheeks. At least Eggsy cannot slouch here, he thinks with amusement. There is no space, not unless he wants his knee to rub up against Harry's cock. Which is an avenue of thought that Harry can save for later. 

 

He meets Eggsy's eyes again, and asks him about his latest mission. 

 

"Pretty simple stuff, innit?" Eggsy replies. "Cleanin' up after the dregs of criminals and the like. Anybody who's anybody went ke-poof," Eggsy says, one hand making an explosion gesture. Harry has seen the footage of Valentine's little implants. 

 

"Quite," he replies. "But never let your guard down, Eggsy," he warns. 

 

"Yeah, got that," Eggsy replies. The last few months on the job have proven that Eggsy is exceptionally capable as a Kingsman. Still, Harry takes his mentoring duties very seriously. Never mind the growing ache behind his ribs at the thought of Eggsy...failing, at this juncture. 

 

They order, and their meals arrive and somehow fit on the table and not in either of their laps. Harry enjoys the warmth of Eggsy's contact quietly, watching his charge for any sign of discomfort. It is hardly the closest they have been, though, he muses. A mission a few weeks ago had seen them both crammed into a closet barely large enough for one of them. Harry had been forced to fight hard against his body's sudden rush of blood, trying and barely succeeding in keeping their hips just far enough apart that he couldn't tell if Eggsy was in a similar state or not. 

 

A part of him wishes he knew, so that he can stop playing this game. Intimacy, close proximity on missions was simply something that was necessitated from time to time. But to seek it out outside of those parameters: these are dangerous lines to cross, and he is not exactly abiding their limit. Eggsy's knee is warm where their legs rest together, and the young man seems increasingly relaxed as the meal wears on. 

 

Harry wonders how much longer he can allow this to go on before he does something - one way or another. 

 

\---

 

Eggsy wishes he knew what game Harry is playing at. He wishes there was more room between the tables here, so he could shift back, because he keeps nearly getting hard every time Harry moves his leg and that is a little hard to hide in bespoke trousers, yeah? But at the same time, it's nice, the little touching and Harry sitting so close right there. He thinks he wouldn't mind doing this more often, tiny table or not. 

 

Harry orders them a drink, skipping all the sugary stuff for dessert, and Eggsy is pleased to discover a mild buzz floating through his veins. He smiles at Harry. 

 

"I'm getting pretty good at this posh stuff, ain't I?" he asks as he sips the liquor. He sets the glass back on the table, eyes locking with Harry's and there is that dark depth again, heat swimming beneath startling golden brown, and Eggsy feels his breath catch. 

 

Harry's leg shifts against his as he replies, so Eggsy almost misses what he says and fuck it all to hell he is absolutely hard now and no denying it. "Quite good, Eggsy."Eggsy wraps his hands around the glass tightly so he won't do anything stupid with them, like reach under the table and grab Harry's knee. Harry holds his gaze steadily, until Eggsy drops his eyes because his dick situation is not improved by the way Harry is looking at him. He glanced back up, sneaking a peek just to double check. Yeah, definitely not helping. 

 

Harry pays while they finish their drinks, and by the time they stand to leave, Eggsy is fairly certain his enjoyment of Harry fucking Hart touching him isn't going to be announced up the whole world. Though Harry nearly ruins that when he places a hand at the small of Eggsy's back to guide him out of the restaurant. 

 

"Well," Harry says, as he holds open the door of the cab he has hailed for Eggsy, "thank you for a lovely evening. I'll see you at work tomorrow." 

 

"Night, Harry," Eggsy replies as he ducks into the cab. He sighs and lets his head fall back as they turn the corner out of sight, rubbing a finger absently over his lips. 

 

For the rest of the night, he can't quite shake the feeling that Harry Hart had just taken him on a date. But why? 

 

\---

 

He'd meant to shave on the plane ride back to London, but after a weeklong mission with no proper hygiene facilities to speak of, Eggsy is so exhausted just scrubbing the dirt off of his body that he is fairly certain he might accidentally slit his own throat if he tries to shave right now. He settles for collapsing into one of the plane's plush seats, barely waking to stagger off the plane and into the waiting car. 

 

By the time they pull round the drive at Kingsman headquarters, the morning sun glinting brightly off of lush, dew-covered grass, he has had just enough of a kip to know that he needs to sleep for approximately a week. 

 

No such luck though, as Harry is waiting in his office despite the early hour, sitting behind his desk to debrief him. Fortunately, Merlin slips in halfway through with the strongest cup of tea Eggsy has ever tasted, and by the end of his conversation with Harry, Eggsy is feeling a whole lot better. Or at least like a day or two of sleep might be enough. 

 

"Alright, then?" he asks, as Harry seems finished with questioning him. Harry regards him with an expression that Eggsy can't quite place. He holds still, holds Harry's gaze: it feels like a test, almost. It makes his skin feel warm: he realizes he is _enjoying_ the attention from Harry, weird as it might be. Then something shifts in Harry's expression, and Eggsy realized that the man has just made a decision. About what, he doesn't know. Considering who Harry Hart is, how dangerous he can be, Eggsy thinks that this should make him nervous. Instead, he feels a thrill. He itches to ask Harry, but knows that asking is only the fast track to another lecture. Or to not finding out at all. So Eggsy keeps his mouth shut, and waits for Harry to make the reveal. 

 

"Yes, I think we're quite done here," Harry replies, all collected and cool, like he hasn't just spent a full minute staring inexplicably at Eggsy. "Now, if you would kindly come with me," Harry says, rising from his seat and walking out of the room, not even waiting to see if Eggsy will follow. Eggsy wants to feel kind of peeved at the nerve of that, but of course he follows Harry anyways. Would follow him anywhere, really. 

 

Harry leads him into the now-empty dormitory where Eggsy had lived as a recruit. They have a bit of rebuilding to do, after V-day, but at the moment Kingsman is in between classes. Eggsy follows Harry into the room, and then stands stock still as Harry steps back closer to him, and reaches towards the door. Eggsy feels his stomach knot in a nervous and excited way, and curses his cock for taking in interest in the way Harry's long fingers look as he turns the deadbolt to lock the door behind them.

 

"You've neglected your hygiene," Harry states, after taking another long look at Eggsy, and Eggsy wishes he could say that he is starting to find those gazes unnerving, but this time it's just turned him on that much faster. He is fucking hopeless when it came to Harry Hart, he supposes. Harry brushes his fingertips over the week-old stubble on Eggsy's cheeks before he turns and walks towards the facilities, such as they are. He shucks his jacket without a backwards glance, tossing it onto one of the beds. Eggsy lets his eyes drink in the sight. 

 

"I did shower," Eggsy defends himself, because he had, thanks, but he still has that itch under his skin, the one that is trying to figure out just what the hell Harry is getting at here. It feels as if it has been years since Harry has touched him, and Eggsy feels anticipation thrumming headily through his veins as he considers the various directions they might be heading here. He watches as Harry picks up a flannel and places it on the edge of a sink. Yeah, so he hasn't shaved yet. He would have gotten to it, eventually. But Harry doesn't seem remotely angry or pissed or anything: just purposeful. 

 

"Sit," Harry says, indicating the sink next to him. Harry opens the medicine cabinet over the sink next to Eggsy, withdrawing a razor and a can of shaving cream. He seems vaguely displeased by them, although Eggsy can't figure out why. Add it to his currently growing pile of Harry mysteries, then. 

 

"Well. I suppose this will have to do," Harry says, after glaring at the tools in his hand for a few long moments. "Unless you would prefer someone else do it," he concluded, and Eggsy recognizes his out. Harry sets the implements on the sink next to Eggsy and turns to him. 

 

"No, Harry," Eggsy replies, mildly horrified by the breathless tone of his voice. He musters up a bit of swagger, continuing: "I'd rather it was you." Harry holds his gaze for a moment, before nodding and turning on the tap. 

 

"You gonna shave me, Harry?" Eggsy asks, unable to keep his mouth shut, just failing to keep the dark edge of want out of his voice. Harry's eyes snap to his, something sharp and dangerous there, and Eggsy feels his face heat slightly. He knows, but he wants to hear Harry say it. Wants Harry's voice, his hands, his attention all focused on him. How in the hell is he ever going to make it out of this without blowing his _Harry fucking Hart gets my rocks off_ cover? 

 

He considers that his cover might already be well and thoroughly blown. Eggsy leans back against the mirror behind him, shifting his hands to cover his crotch, aiming for casual subtlety.Fuck, but he's already chubbed enough to ruin the line of his bespoke trousers. 

 

"A gentleman is never...scruffy," Harry replies, stepping to stand between Eggsy's legs, running his fingertips over Eggsy's beard again. Eggsy's heart is hammering so hard he is sure Harry can hear it, inches away as he is, but he doesn't change his slouched posture. He holds his breath as Harry loosens his tie and unbuttons the top two buttons of his shirt, Harry's fingers like licks of fire over his skin. Satisfied, Harry steps back to roll up his own shirtsleeves. 

 

"An' is this how a gentleman shaves?" Eggsy asks, as Harry touches him again, gripping his face to turn it side to side, his voice sounding hungry even to his own ears.

 

"No," Harry replies. "This is not." He withdraws his hand from Eggsy's face. "By all rights, I should drag you down the street to have a proper shave done." Harry's eyes move from Eggsy's beard to meet his eyes. "But I am not." Harry turns, removing his tie. He is still wearing his holster and sidearms, and Eggsy tries not to think too are about that. 

 

"No, you're gonna do this yourself, ain't ya, Harry?" Eggsy asks, letting the heat in his voice answer the heat in Harry's gaze. "Take care of me yourself?"

 

"Yes," Harry replies, his voice quiet and dark. "Yes, Eggsy, I'm going to take very good care of you." 

 

—-

 

Harry's heart is hammering in his chest, but his hands are reliably steady as he strokes the razor evenly over Eggsy's skin. He really should have taken him to have this done properly, Harry thinks for the tenth time, even as he doesn't regret his decision. He likes taking care of Eggsy, looking out for him and teaching him. And he had seen the way Eggsy's eyes had watched him, earlier, when he removed his jacket. Deliberate, that, using the large mirror to see Eggsy respond, to feel heat sliding under his skin as he saw Eggsy continue undressing him with his eyes. He meets Eggsy's eyes now, and any doubt he has that Eggsy doesn't understand exactly what is going on here evaporates instantly. He shouldn't be surprised, then, as he towels the last bits of shaving cream from Eggsy's freshly shaven face, to feel a finger hook into the waist band of his trousers. 

 

_A bold move, Eggsy_ , he thinks, even as a fraction of a gasp escapes him, betraying him. 

 

"Tell me, Harry," Eggsy says, and there is heat in his voice that has Harry's blood running hot, "where are we going with this?" 

 

Moment of truth then. 

 

"Cos I gotta say," Eggsy continues, "I've been pretty fucked up over you for a while now, an' with you bein' not dead and all, I'm running out of reasons to not do anyfing 'bout it." Harry trails his fingers lightly over Eggsy's cheek, checking his work. 

 

"Our relationship isn't enough reason not to do anything?" Harry asks, and he knows he is stalling, but he needs to be sure. Doubly sure. A quick fuck is never going to be enough. He is all in, or completely out: no room for middle ground. 

 

"Don't seem to stop you," Eggsy says, tugging a bit with his finger until Harry steps just that much closer, and Eggsy can bracket his hips with his spread legs. 

 

"My dear boy," Harry says, giving up pretense and gently cupping Eggsy's cheek as he strokes his thumb over his cheekbone, "sometimes I am despicably ungentlemanly." Eggsy smirks at that remark, before his tongue darts out to wet his lips. 

 

"See, cos," Eggsy continues, "you locked the door.Ain't no propriety in that, is there?" he asks, finally shifting to bring himself closer to Harry, close enough to be kissed. 

 

"I assure you there is nothing proper about what I want from you," Harry replies, and he can hear the dark snarl hiding just beneath the surface of the words. 

 

"Good," Eggsy breathes, and he closes the distance between their mouths. Harry feels the first contact of their lips like an electric shock, the hot-smooth glide of Eggsy's lips over his own. He brings his other had up, bracketing Eggsy's jaw and tipping his face to improve the angle. Eggsy gasps, grabbing at Harry's hips as he is tipped off balance, and Harry seizes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside Eggsy's mouth, teasing just inside his lower lip. His head swims dizzily, and he can hear both of them breathing raggedly as Eggsy leans into the kiss, his groan vibrating through Harry's chest as he lets Harry deepen it. 

 

"Fuck, yes, finally Harry," Eggsy breathes, as Harry takes a moment to press kisses along his jaw line. His lips wander back to brush the corner of Eggsy's mouth, and Eggsy turns hungrily into the kiss, his hands drifting up Harry's back. He lets Eggsy pull their hips flush, both of them half-whimpering at the contact. Harry gives a dirty roll of his hips that has Eggsy'shands scrabbling down to his arse to pull him in closer. They pass a few long minutes lost in the heat of each others bodies, until Harry finally pulls back. 

 

"If we do this," Harry says, after barely catching his breath, "we go all in. No half measures." He sees Eggsy starting to nod, and then a frown creases his brow as Harry takes a step back. Harry aches from the lack of contact, his entire body warring with his will. Eggsy's hands grip, white knuckled on the edge of the sink, to keep himself in place. 

 

"Yeah, Harry," he starts, still frowning, but Harry cuts him off. 

 

"I should give you some time to think," he says. It was the only way to do this correctly, and god knew that rashness had fucked up enough things in his life. It feels horribly strange, standing mere feet from what he so desperately craves and denying himself. He will wait for Eggsy to come to him and ask, later. Eggsy nods, once, still seeming confused, but the boy knows better than to blurt out an answer now and expect Harry accept it. He is certainly learning. 

 

As he closes the door behind him, he hears the soft thunk of Eggsy leaning his head back against the mirror, and the muttered "fuck". 

 

When he returns to his office, he discovers that Merlin has already left the necessary paperwork on his desk. Cracked his password again, then. Silently, he thanks his friend, before setting aside all other thought for the most incredible and unsatisfying wank he can remember in a long time. 

 

\---

 

Harry has just settled onto the settee with a glass of scotch and the television remote late that night when a knock sounds at his door. 

 

"This is rather sooner than I was expecting an answer," he says quietly as he stands aside to let Eggsy into the house. 

 

"Yeah, well," Eggsy replies. He follows Harry into the sitting room, hands shoved in his pocketseven as he slouches in the place they Harry has just vacated. Eggsy picks at the inseam of his jeans, eyes downcast. Harry can't quite decide whether the clothing and demeanor his friend has adopted are an affectation or Eggsy retreating to his comfort zone, so he busies himself with pouring another drink for Eggsy as he speaks. 

 

"Attachments," he begins, "in our particular line of work can be...expensive." He meets Eggsy's eyes on the last word, handing him the drink. "It's a thing best considered carefully," Harry continues, perching himself on the arm chair opposite Eggsy. He aches to be closer. But distance and perspective are critical at this juncture. 

 

"I'm aware of that," Eggsy says, after taking a sip of the scotch. Harry sees a flicker of irritation in Eggsy's face. The young man leans forward, placing his drink on the table between them and resting his elbows on his knees. His hair is combed neatly into place, Harry observes, and his gaze is startlingly direct in the soft light of the darkened room. "But don't you think, I dunno, maybe that means it's even more important to seize every opportunity?" 

 

Harry hears echoes of his own thoughts in the wake of his return to the living - of not letting the opportunity to express pass. 

 

"As I said before," Harry says, "no half measures." 

 

"Ain't nothin' half 'bout what I want," Eggsy answers. He rises slowly, drifting over to where Harry is seated before extending a hand. Eggsy moves slowly, control and caution dominating his movements and Harry is aware that Eggsy is trying to respect his boundaries even as they mutually move to shatter them. Harry allows himself to be pulled to his feet, and feels his heart thump erratically as Eggsy's fingers close over his, taking the drink from his grasp and setting it aside. 

 

\---

 

Eggsy can feel his heart trying to claw out of his chest as he forces himself to hold Harry's gaze. The easy pliancy of Harry's responses has him nearly dizzy with want, and he wonders if this is what is under that buttoned down demeanor and tight control: the lion showing his belly. Part of him is so sure that this is another lesson, or some gigantic fucking joke, and Harry is realizing he has let it go to far and the punchline will be the next thing out of his mouth. But there isn't anything worth having that doesn't come with the price. And the risk Eggsy is taking here? The price could be Kingsman. Could be his life. 

 

That doesn't matter at all. 

 

Eggsy realizes that his fingers are still pressed against Harry's hand, from when he had set down his drink. He breaks eye contact, unable to resist the sight of his hand touching Harry. And there is touching, which seemed to happen more and more often lately, and there is this: intent. Because Eggsy _intends_. Harry's other hand brushing along his cheek sends a thrill of memory through Eggsy's gut, and his eyes wind their way back to Harry's as Harry cups his jaw and slides a thumb over his cheekbone. It is all so slow, his brain supplies helpfully, not the crashing, clashing, clawing climax he has somehow expected. And then Harry kisses him. 

 

Time flows slow and golden, sweet as honey, as they come together at last. And just like everything else about Harry, in this too Eggsy is astounded. Deft fingers make short work of their clothing, and then Harry has him laid out on the settee and he's just...looking. And Eggsy can't help himself: he preens under Harry's attention, stretching and basking in his gaze. And then Harry is on him again, lining them up in his hand as he kisses Eggsy hungrily, and when Eggsy finally comes, shooting over Harry's fist onto his own stomach, the force of it feels like a freight train ripping through him. 

 

And when Harry holds him close, later, tucked together in bed, he thinks that he was right: he would happily die for this. 

 


End file.
